Eleven Christmases, Eleven Messes
by xxLittle Black Dressxx
Summary: Eleven Christmases ... and the messes that went along with them.
1. Christmases 1-3

A/N: I hope you're having a great holiday season! I've really been enjoying reading all the Addek Christmas stories people have been posting, so here's my contribution. I know another (incredible) writer on this site is already writing a story with a similar premise, but this story is different enough that I thought it was worth sharing.

Originally, my plan was to post all eleven Christmases in one story; but the story got very long, so I decided to split it up. The good news is that everything's written, so I can update quickly.

Here's the first installment; I hope you like it. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! Happy Holidays!

* * *

 **Eleven Christmases, Eleven Messes**

 _One of the most glorious messes in the world is the mess created in the living room on Christmas Day. Don't clean it up too quickly.  
_ _-Andy Rooney_

 _1\. First Christmas_

Their first Christmas together wasn't traditional. Messy, but not traditional.

"I'm exhausted," Addison admitted.

"I know," Derek agreed. "I guess a week of back-to-back finals will do that to you."

Addison nodded in agreement. "I just want to crawl into bed and sleep until New Year's."

Derek chuckled. He had to admit, Addison had a point. Their first semester in medical school had been brutal, and their intense finals schedule had been the icing on the cake.

"Are you sure you're not going to regret not going home for Christmas?" Derek asked.

"Trust me, the last thing I want to do is join the sea of last minute travelers rushing home for Christmas. Besides, Archer won't be there, and I'm way too tired and incoherent to spend a WASP-y Christmas with my parents. You should go home for Christmas, though," she told Derek, as she folded down her comforter and climbed into bed. "It sounds like Christmas with your family is nice."

"I'm not leaving you alone on Christmas," Derek insisted as he joined his girlfriend of six months in bed. "Besides, Christmas with my family is always loud and crazy. And after the week we just had, the last thing I want to do is deal with all the noise and craziness."

"Really?" Addison asked uncertainly.

"Really," Derek smiled, kissing the tip of her nose sweetly.

"Next Christmas we'll do something fun," Addison yawned. She brushed her lips against Derek's. "I promise."

"I don't know," Derek chuckled as he pulled her into his arms. "I still think _this_ Christmas is going to be fun."

They woke up on Christmas morning feeling much more awake than they'd anticipated.

"I thought we'd at least sleep until noon," Addison said, glancing at the clock on the nightstand.

"Nope," Derek chuckled. "It's not even seven."

Addison turned to her boyfriend. "What's the first thing your family does on Christmas morning?"

"Open presents," Derek answered automatically. "Doesn't everybody?"

Addison shook her head. "My family doesn't. We always start Christmas with a very long, very formal breakfast."

"Oh. Uh, sounds fun?"

"It's not," Addison chuckled. "But Bizzy and the Captain find present opening a lot more tolerable after they've had a bloody Mary or two."

"Even when you were a kid?" Derek asked in surprise.

" _Especially_ when my brother and I were kids."

"You poor thing," Derek said sympathetically. He extended a hand to her. "Come on."

Addison looked at him uncertainly. "Where are we going?"

"To the living room to open presents and celebrate Christmas like normal people."

Addison accepted her boyfriend's hand and they made their way into the living room.

"I'll even let you open the first present," Derek grinned.

He was about to make his way to the tree to retrieve a present, when he felt Addison pull at his arm. He looked at her curiously, and saw a mischievous glint in her eyes.

He chuckled. "Is there something you'd like to unwrap before you we start unwrapping gifts?" he asked coyly.

She shrugged suggestively. "Something … or someone."

That was all he needed. He crashed his lips against hers, kissing her heatedly. And she kissed him back just as urgently. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in closer, and she raked her fingers through his sleep-tousled hair as she kissed him deeply.

She slipped his Columbia sweatshirt over his head, carelessly tossing it aside. And he removed her silk pajama top. They continued to hastily undress each other, flinging each other's pajamas in every direction.

She laughed when his sweatpants landed in the Christmas tree, knocking a few ornaments to the floor. But she was quickly distracted because his lips were back on hers, and he lowered her to the ground gently. He trailed feather-light kisses down her neck, and she gasped as he entered her.

And just like that, they started their own Christmas tradition.

The first thing his family did on Christmas morning was open presents. The first thing hers did was have a big, fancy breakfast. They decided, then and there, that the first thing _they_ would do on Christmas morning was each other. Christmas morning sex.

"I love you," Derek whispered, as they cuddled beneath the tree, their naked skin still glistening.

Addison smiled. It wasn't the first time he'd said these words to her. But it was Christmas, and that made things different … special … magical.

"I love you too, Derek."

They lay there a few minutes longer, enjoying the feeling of being close to each other. After a while, she climbed on top of him and kissed his lips sweetly.

"I guess we should get dressed … and clean this up," she said, gesturing to the living room, which now had discarded pajamas, ornaments, and even some Christmas tree branches scattered across the floor.

"Wait," Derek said, pinning her down as she tried to get up. "It's Christmas morning. And some of the best messes in the world are created in the living room on Christmas morning." He pressed his lips to hers. "So, let's not clean this up too quickly."

* * *

 _2\. With His Family_

They spent their second Christmas together with his family.

"This is pretty idyllic," Addison smiled as she watched Derek's nieces and nephews tear into their Christmas presents.

"You mean crazy and noisy?" Derek corrected.

Addison shrugged. "It's a welcome change from what I'm used to."

"Okay, you two," Carolyn said, approaching her son and his girlfriend. "We have about a half hour until the children realize they're hungry and start clamoring for breakfast. You two are on breakfast duty." She turned to Addison. "In this house, everyone helps out. I hope that's okay."

"Of course," Addison said with as much sweetness as she could muster, trying not to take Carolyn's presumptuous tone to heart.

"Addison's a great cook," Derek informed his mother.

"Is that so?" Carolyn asked.

Addison wanted scream that she was the farthest thing from a good cook … that she was a can't-even-boil-water bad cook.

She, of course, stayed silent.

"She's a great cook," Derek repeated.

"Well, I can't wait to taste your chocolate chip pancakes then," Carolyn smiled.

Addison sighed. Carolyn may have been smiling at her, but she'd lived with Bizzy for enough years to be able to detect hostility behind even the sweetest smile. And her hostility radar was buzzing loud and clear.

"Derek," she scolded, once they were alone in the kitchen. "Why would you tell your mother I'm a good cook?"

"Because you are."

"Honey, we both know that's not true."

"You could be a good cook," Derek insisted. "You just don't trust yourself."

"With good reason," Addison chuckled.

"Come on, you haven't set off a smoke detector in months."

"I'm not sure that translates into me being a good cook."

"Relax," Derek laughed. "We're just making chocolate chip pancakes. They're really easy to make."

Addison looked at her boyfriend doubtfully. "I hope so."

It turned out they weren't easy to make. Not for her, at least. Derek's pancakes were perfect, but each pancake she attempted was worse than the last.

"I don't get what I'm doing wrong," Addison admitted scrutinizing yet another inedible pancake.

"That's impressive," Derek chuckled, peering at the pancake. "You somehow managed to both burn and undercook it. That takes skill."

"Shut up," Addison muttered, swatting Derek playfully with her spatula. "Your mother's not going to be impressed."

"So?" He dipped his hand into the bowl of pancake batter and smeared some on her cheek. "Stop trying to impress her."

"Derek," Addison scolded, laughing as she tried to wipe the batter off her face.

"You missed a spot," Derek teased, swiping some more batter across her jawline.

"I did miss a spot," she agreed with mock seriousness. She dipped her index finger into the batter and playfully smeared some on the tip of his nose. "Much better," she approved.

From there, things kind of just devolved. He covered her with pancake batter. She covered him with pancake batter. At one point, they broke out the flour and started throwing it at each other.

They were so involved in covering each other in batter and flour they didn't hear the footsteps that were approaching the kitchen.

"Messy!" Derek's four-year-old niece, Leah, exclaimed clapping her hands in delight.

"What's going on?" seven-year-old Austin asked his mother, looking at Addison and Derek in confusion.

"I'll tell you what's going on," Nancy told her son, as she and Kathleen exchanged an amused glance. "Uncle Derek is head over heels in love."

"It's actually kind of sweet," Kathleen admitted. "It's—"

"What in the world is going on in here?" Carolyn interrupted as she walked into the kitchen. "What happened?"

"Grandma, Uncle Derek is head over heels in love," Austin parroted. "That's what happened."

Nancy and Kathleen chuckled, but Carolyn seemed less than amused.

"Is everything okay, Mom?" Derek asked, giving Carolyn a charming smile.

Carolyn folded her arms across her chest. "You two have 'til the count of three to clean this mess up."

* * *

 _3\. With Her Family_

"I'm sorry, "Addison apologized, gently rubbing her boyfriend's thigh, as their car trudged through the streets of Manhattan.

"Addison, you have nothing to apologize for, "Derek insisted, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"Nothing except my family," Addison said quietly, looking down.

"Hey I resent that," Archer piped up from the back seat of the car. "And I don't get why you're apologizing to Derek about our family. I've met his family; they're nothing special."

"Archer, I have no problems with throwing you out of this car," Derek threatened.

"You wouldn't do that," Archer countered, calling Derek's bluff. "Besides, Addie wouldn't let you."

"Don't push your luck, Archer," Addison warned her brother.

"I thought your parents did a nice job decorating the house for Christmas," Derek cut in, changing the subject.

"They hire people to decorate for them," Archer informed Derek proudly.

"The house looked like a museum," Addison muttered. "An impeccably decorated museum … but still …"

"It wasn't that bad," Derek reassured.

"Only because my family's stiff, stilted house paled in comparison to Bizzy's slew of elitist comments."

"Addie, this wasn't the first time I met your parents. And quite frankly, Bizzy wouldn't be Bizzy without the occasional elitist comment or two."

"Try twelve," Archer corrected.

Addison sighed. "I guess Bizzy's comments were better than the Captain leaving in the middle of Christmas dinner with some fake surgical emergency excuse."

Archer chuckled. "Word on the street is he's screwing some intern."

Addison shook her head in disgust. "Classless."

"Archer, where am I dropping you off?" Derek cut in.

"You've still got a few blocks. I'll tell you when we're close."

"Like father, like son," Addison muttered.

"Hey," Archer objected. "That's not fair. I'm not married. And I should be allowed to have a little fun on Christmas. Lord knows Christmas dinner with Bizzy and the Captain wasn't."

Addison rolled her eyes. "So, tell me about her."

"For starters, her name is Mandy. Or wait … maybe it's Mindy. Or Misty? Anyway, that's not important. She's here on a fellowship and has no family or friends in the city. That's where I come in."

"Charming," Addison rebuked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"She thinks I am. And stop being such a prune."

"I'm not being a—"

"Mary!" Archer interrupted. "Her name's Mary. Kind of appropriate given the season, don't you think?"

"Archer?" Derek cut in.

"Yeah?"

"What do you say we remain silent for the rest of the trip?"

That, of course, didn't happen. But they eventually dropped Archer off and made it back to their place. Technically, it was Addison's place; but he was always there, so it was essentially _their_ place.

"Sorry, again," Addison apologized as she unlocked the door to the apartment.

"Stop apologizing," Derek insisted. "It wasn't as bad as you think."

"I just …" she trailed off, walking over to the Christmas tree in the living room. A slight smile came to her face as an idea formed in her mind.

She scanned the already-opened Christmas presents that they didn't have time to put away that morning and removed a stack of new blouses from underneath the tree.

Then she started throwing them. One by one. Letting tem float through the air, not caring that she was wrinkling them.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked in confusion.

"What does it look like?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Reenacting that scene from _The Great Gatsby_?"

"No," Addison laughed. "I'm making a mess."

"Clearly," Derek chuckled. "But why?"

"Because," Addison explained, tossing a cream, silk top into the air, "I'm being the Anti-Bizzy and Anti-Captain."

"Addison," Derek said growing serious and pulling her into his arms. "You're nothing like either of your parents. You don't have to make a mess to prove it."

She looked at him uncertainly. "Really?"

"Really," he said, meeting her eyes. "Addison, you're warm and kind and …" he trailed off, kissing her chastely, "I love you … crazy family, and all."

"I love you too," she said, kissing him back. She gave him a guilty smile. "Sorry for the crazy girl-flip-out."

"I'm used to them," Derek shrugged, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

"I guess I should probably clean this up," she said, gesturing to the pile of shirts on the floor.

"That's one option," Derek said coyly. He walked over to the tree and removed his own box of new shirts. "But this looks kind of fun," he admitted, tossing a shirt in the air.

Addison laughed and immediately joined her boyfriend … throwing shirts into the air and creating a mess they wouldn't bother cleaning up until the following day.


	2. Christmases 4-6

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone for reading and reviewing. It's definitely starting to feel like Christmas; especially since I just got back from vacationing somewhere warm, and was greeted with snow on the ground and freezing cold temperatures.

Here are the next few Christmases; I hope you like them. And thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 _4\. When He Proposed_

He was a mess of nerves that Christmas. Deep down, he knew she'd say yes. But, still, he was nervous.

"Derek?" Addison mumbled, entering the living room early on Christmas morning.

She was still dressed in pajamas, her hair still messy from sleep.

"I woke up and you weren't in bed," she pouted. "We always wake up together on Christmas morning. It's tradition."

"I know. I just … couldn't sleep."

Addison gave him a teasing smile. "Too excited to sleep? I know Santa can have that effect on people."

"Actually, you're half right," Derek admitted. "I was too excited to sleep. But Santa had nothing to do with it."

"I'm not sure I'm following," Addison admitted.

"I, um …" Derek stammered. "I know this Christmas is going to be crazy … especially since we agreed to spend time with both our families. And I know we're going to be opening a lot of presents today. But before we see our families and open presents, I wanted to give you give you something first … here and now."

"Derek …" Addison gasped, tears welling in her eyes as her boyfriend dropped to one knee.

"I know Christmas proposals are cliché," Derek admitted, holding out a sparkling diamond ring. "But Christmas makes you want to be with the people you love. And I love you, Addison. I want to spend this Christmas and every Christmas for the rest of my life with you. Addison …" he smiled, his heart beating wildly in his chest, "will you marry me?"

"Of course I'll marry you," she grinned, joining him on the ground and kissing him deeply. "I love you."

"I love you too," he smiled, slipping the engagement ring on her finger.

She glanced down at the diamond and smiled. "I love this," she grinned, kissing him again. "It's perfect."

"Really?" Derek asked uncertainly.

"Really," Addison smiled. "But, Derek, you could have proposed with a ring made out of tinsel and it still would have been perfect. As long as it's you and me … I don't care about the rest."

Derek smiled widely and pulled her into his arms. And she rested her head against his chest.

"I really love that you proposed on Christmas," she whispered after a few minutes, looking up and meeting his eyes."

"Really?" he asked. "Not too cliché?"

"For some people, maybe," Addison shrugged. "But not for us. Christmas is our season."

"Yeah," Derek smiled, brushing his lips against hers. "It is."

"Merry Christmas, Fiancé," Addison smiled.

"Merry Christmas Fiancée."

They spent a large portion of that Christmas sharing their good news with their families. And they'd be lying if they said they weren't met with mixed reactions.

Some reactions were good.

Mark was thrilled. (He, of course, already knew about the engagement). And Derek's sisters couldn't have been more excited if they tried.

Some reactions were neutral.

Carolyn smiled politely, and said she was glad her son found someone who made him happy. Bizzy and the Captain offered their congratulations, but then lamented how they wished Addison were marrying into a more prominent family.

And some reactions were bad ... kind of.

Archer flat out told them they were making a mistake … that them getting married was a mess waiting to happen. But he quickly backpedaled and conceded that if this was what his sister wanted, he'd be behind them one-hundred percent. Of course, he'd be watching Derek like a hawk.

But all that faded into the background for Addison and Derek. Because that Christmas was all about them. It was his mess of nerves and her messy hair … but, most importantly, it was the promise of spending their season—and the rest of their lives—together.

* * *

 _5\. In the Brownstone_

It seemed like a good idea at the time … hosting both their families for Christmas. They'd recently bought a brownstone, and Christmas time seemed like the perfect time to show it off to their families.

They had it all planned out.

They'd hang lights, decorate a tree, bake Christmas cookies … and do all the things people normally do to make a house feel Christmassy.

What they forgot to factor into their plans was their crazy work schedules.

"Derek, can't you untangle those Christmas lights any faster?" Addison asked. "I swear, by the time you're done, it's going to be next Christmas."

"Hey, if you think you can untangle them faster, you're more than welcome to try," Derek said, handing Addison the tangled mess of lights, while he move onto unkinking the garland.

"How did we let this happen?" Addison asked. "It's literally Christmas morning, we have company coming in less than an hour … and our brownstone isn't even close to being decorated. In fact, if it weren't for the big, undecorated pine tree in the corner of our living room, I wouldn't even know it's Christmas."

Derek chuckled. "We've been working around the clock," he reminded Addison. "When were we supposed to find time to decorate?"

"I know, I just … why are these so impossible to untangle?" Addison demanded, glaring at the tangle of Christmas lights in her hands. She sighed in defeat. "I give up."

"We might not need them," Derek said.

"What?"

"Honey, we have tons of Christmas lights and decorations. Let's lay everything out on the living room floor and see whether untangling that mess is worth the time in effort."

"That's pretty smart," Addison said, nodding in approval. "And all this time I thought you got into medical school based on your looks alone."

"Oh, shut it," Derek chuckled. "Just because you beat me on that one neuro test doesn't mean—"

But she cut him off with a kiss. "You know I think you're brilliant, Honey."

"Yeah," Derek smiled, pulling her into his arms. "I know."

They stayed like that for a minute—him holding her—before getting back to the task at hand … decorating the brownstone.

"We have plenty of decorations," Derek assessed, surveying the lights, garland, and ornaments strewn across the living room floor.

"It looks like Christmas threw up in here," Addison muttered.

"Yeah, but at least we don't need to worry about untangling that mess of lights," Derek pointed out, gesturing to the tangle of Christmas lights by Addison's feet.

Addison chuckled. She picked up the lights and playfully draped them on Derek. "I don't know," she disagreed. "I think they look pretty good on you."

Derek laughed. "I think—"

But he was cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing.

Addison and Derek exchanged a nervous glance.

"Our families aren't supposed to be here for another forty-five minutes," Addison told Derek. "And your family is never early."

She walked toward the front door and confirmed the inevitable. Their families had arrived early … very early.

"Derek, look who's here," Addison said with forced cheerfulness as she led her and Derek's families into the living room.

"It's a disaster in here," Lizzy remarked, chuckling at the various Christmas decorations scattered across the floor.

"Merry Christmas to you too," Derek remarked dryly.

"Addison?" Carolyn asked, glancing at her son, who still had Christmas lights draped on him. "Why is Derek better decorated than the Christmas tree?"

"I don't think you want to know the answer to that," Archer told Carolyn. "It's probably best that you don't think of your son in _that_ way."

"There goes my appetite," Amelia muttered.

"Archer," Addison scolded.

"What?" Archer shrugged. "She asked."

"I, um," Addison stammered, giving Carolyn a sweet smile. "We actually thought it would be fun to have everyone help us decorate," she explained, hoping she sounded somewhat convincing.

"Help decorate?" Bizzy grimaced. "You can hire people to do that for you, Dear."

"I know," Addison sighed. "We just—"

"I want to decorate the Christmas tree," Nancy's youngest daughter, Samantha, cut in. "Mommy never lets us help."

"Or she redoes the parts we decorated," Nancy's oldest son, Adam, added.

"That's not entirely true," Nancy insisted.

"Please," Amelia scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You've always been weird about having perfect Christmas decorations. Even when we were kids."

"She can't help it," Kathleen rationalized. "That type of compulsion is very common among first-born children."

"I don't have a compulsion," Nancy insisted.

"So are you guys going to help decorate or not?" Derek asked, purposefully changing the topic.

"Definitely not," Archer said. "But I will help myself to your bar."

"It's ten in the morning," Carolyn admonished.

"So?" Archer shrugged. "It's five o'clock somewhere."

"I'll tell you what," Derek said, ignoring Archer and focusing his attention on his nieces and nephews. He picked up the tangle of lights, which had given him and Addison so much trouble earlier in the morning. "Whichever one of you is able to untangle this, I'll give ten dollars to."

"Ten dollars? Don't be cheap," the Captain muttered. "Kids, don't do it for less than a hundred."

"I want to decorate the tree!" Nancy's daughter, Samantha, cut in, completely ignoring the adults.

"Me too!" Lizzie's youngest, Jonah, chimed in.

And just like that, all their nieces and nephews started decorating the brownstone. Addison and Derek, of course, quickly followed their lead. And then Derek's sisters and mother started pitching in. Even Archer couldn't resist draping a few strands of tinsel on the tree. Bizzy and the Captain, of course, did not decorate. (That was beneath them). But with a couple of bloody Marys in their hands, they seemed happy enough.

"This is actually really nice," Carolyn admitted as she joined Addison and Derek, who were hanging ornaments on the tree. "I don't think the whole family has ever gotten together to decorate before."

"We're glad you're enjoying, Mom," Derek smiled.

"I am," Carolyn beamed, before rushing over to help some of her grandchildren put garland on the railings of the staircase.

Derek waited until his mother was out of earshot before turning to Addison. "You have to admit, she has a point. This is really nice."

"It is," Addison agreed, surveying the scene in the living room.

"And to think, we planned this."

"Derek," Addison scolded.

"Okay," Derek conceded. "We got lucky."

"Very lucky."

"Yeah. Still …" He looked around and smiled. "The house looks great."

"Derek, our brownstone was a gigantic mess this morning. Anything would look better. But, you're right," Addison smiled, pecking his lips. "Our house looks pretty perfect."

* * *

 _6\. When They Hid From the World_

It was supposed to be a life-changing Christmas. She would have been eleven weeks along. And while some might have said it was too soon—too early to share their good news—they didn't care.

Maybe it was naiveté. Or maybe it was because it was Christmas—their season.

In the end, it didn't matter anyway.

They hadn't been trying for a baby. They hadn't not been trying either.

Both were thrilled when the stick turned blue.

They'd had one doctor's appointment. They had one picture of the little life they would never get to meet … never get to raise … never get to know.

The picture didn't look like much. Just a little bean. _Their_ little bean.

For the five weeks they knew about the baby, they were blissfully happy. They shared secret, knowing smiles at work. They purged the brownstone of coffee and alcohol (solidarity, Derek had insisted). And they rarely missed an opportunity to place a hand on Addison's still-flat abdomen to let their baby know how loved he or she already was.

But then she started bleeding. And the perfect little bubble they'd been living in shattered … badly.

"Addie, you should eat something," Derek said gently as he joined his wife on the living room couch, early on Christmas morning. "You can't subsist on coffee alone."

"Why not?" Addison challenged. "There's no reason I can't not drink it."

Derek sighed and wrapped a comforting arm around his wife.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking up and meeting his eyes.

"Addison, you have nothing to apologize for."

She had probably apologized close to a hundred times since it happened. She blamed herself. And no matter how many times he'd insisted it wasn't her fault—that, unfortunately, these things just happen—he knew she didn't believe him.

"My body failed," Addison said flatly. "I failed."

"You didn't—"

"I failed you and I failed our baby."

"That's not true," Derek whispered, holding her closer. "Addison, you know that one in every four pregnancies end in a—"

"Miscarriage," Addison filled in, glaring at her husband. "Yes, Derek, I know. Have you forgotten what I do for a living?"

"No, I—"

"Miscarriage," Addison spat, the word tasting bitter on her tongue. "What a stupid term."

Derek swallowed thickly. She had a point.

"I thought I was carrying our baby just fine," Addison choked out weakly.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, and she buried her head in his neck, her hot tears stinging his skin.

"Maybe we should go to my Mom's house for Christmas," he suggested after a moment. "It might be good for us to get out of the house and interact with people."

"No," Addison said, shaking her head vehemently. "Because they'd know something was wrong. And we'd have to tell them what happened. It's just … I'm not ready to talk about it yet," she admitted vulnerably. "And the last thing I want this Christmas is to have your mom and sisters looking at me sympathetically … or trying to reassure me that you and I can try again."

Derek nodded mutely. As much as he wanted to promise Addison that Christmas with his family wouldn't end up that way, deep down, he knew it would.

"Okay, let's stay here," he resolved, still holding her close. He glanced down at her empty ceramic Christmas mug. "Want a refill?"

She nodded mutely.

"Okay, you stay here. I'll be right back."

When he returned with her coffee, she had moved. She was standing by the tree, holding a wrapped Christmas present in her hand, and looking at it wistfully.

"I bought this a few weeks ago," she told him as she unwrapped the gift. "It was supposed to be for us. See?" she asked, holding up the unwrapped present.

It was an ornament. A glass ornament. A glass, bean-shaped ornament.

She remembered the salesperson telling her that bean-shaped ornaments were very chic, and that a tree decorated entirely with bean-shaped ornaments would look absolutely stunning.

In the end, she refused the upsell. She only wanted one bean-shaped ornament … to symbolize her and Derek's little bean.

She looked down at the ornament in her hand and felt a fresh wave of tears rush to her eyes. And before she knew what she doing, she hurled the ornament at the wood floor … hard.

It shattered immediately, fracturing into a million tiny pieces.

If Derek expressed some type of reaction, she wasn't aware of it. She was tunnel-vision focused on the mess of glass at her feet.

At first, it felt almost cathartic to break the ornament and create a mess. How apropos, she thought … a perfect symbol for her life.

But the more she thought about it—the once beautiful bean now shattered on the floor—the more it hurt.

And, suddenly, she was sobbing uncontrollably. And she couldn't breathe. And then Derek's arms were around her, holding her close and stroking her hair.

He kissed her gently, and held her tightly; and she buried her head in his neck while he let her cry. His cheeks were wet with tears, but she couldn't tell if they were hers or his. Most likely both.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he whispered back.

All things considered, they cleaned up the shattered ornament pretty quickly. (Broken glass is dangerous, after all).

They cleaned up the glass that day … but not the mess in its entirety.


	3. Christmases 7-8

A/N: Thanks so much for your kind reviews on the last installment. That was one of my favorites to write, so I hope you liked reading it as much as I liked writing it. With that said, here's the next couple of Christmases. I hope you like them. The next chapter's the last one. As always, thanks so much for reading and reviewing. Hope you're having a great holiday season!

* * *

 _7\. When He Didn't Come Home_

He didn't see what a mess she was the Christmas he didn't come home … the Christmas he chose work over her.

He didn't see the tears or the streaks of mascara that stained her cheeks. He didn't see the wadded up tissues on the couch.

She cleaned all that up before he got home.

He never knew what a mess she was that Christmas. How she thought back to earlier Christmases—when they were undeniably happy and in love. How she thought about this Christmas—and how, if she hadn't miscarried, their baby would be two-and-a-half. A toddler.

And maybe things would be different. Maybe Derek would have been home with her and their child, instead of working. Maybe there would even be another baby on the way.

She, of course, didn't share any of this with him. And those thoughts would remain just that—thoughts. It was better that way, anyway, she rationalized.

So, when Derek got home, late that Christmas night, he didn't see the tears or the wadded up tissues or the slew of "what ifs."

He saw his wife sleeping peacefully. The picture of perfection.

But that's where messes and Santa are a lot alike … just because you can't see them doesn't mean they don't exist.

* * *

 _8\. Her First Christmas in Seattle_

Her first Christmas in Seattle was a mess of epic proportions.

He had ripped her heart out with a few simple sentences: _Christmas makes you want to be with the people you love. I'm not saying this to hurt you or because I want to leave you, because I don't. Meredith wasn't a fling … she wasn't revenge … I fell in love with her. That doesn't go away because I decided to stay with you._

She wanted to cry … loud and uncontrollably. But she was in public, and her tear ducts were too proud for that.

She wanted to leave—just like he'd left her in New York. But she was too proud for that too. And walking away had always been his thing, not hers.

So, she stayed. Maybe she was a masochist, but she stayed there, in Joe's bar, sipping her hot buttered rum.

She knew he wouldn't leave. If it were just the two of them, he'd leave in a heartbeat. Hell, he wouldn't have bothered to show up in the first place. But they were in public on Christmas Eve. And they were in Seattle, and he had to protect his McDreamy reputation. So, he wasn't going anywhere. She knew that.

She ordered another drink.

He followed suit.

They didn't talk. Just sat there, sipping at their drinks in uncomfortable silence.

"Okay, Derek," she conceded, draining the last of her hot buttered rum. "You win. I'm going to leave so you can get on with your evening. And tomorrow, you can wake up on Christmas morning next to someone you love."

He didn't stop her from leaving. He just sat there, silently, nursing his scotch, looking past her.

Tears sprung to her eyes the moment she stepped into her car. Slowly at first, but within minutes, steady tears were coursing down her cheeks.

The tears became heavier when she realized she had nowhere to go. She didn't have a home in Seattle.

The idea of going to a hotel seemed depressing. So, she drove to the trailer. It wasn't like Derek would be going back there tonight anyway.

She let herself in and immediately poured herself a large glass of scotch. And then another one.

She was almost through her second glass, when the door to the trailer opened.

"What are you doing here?" she asked Derek as he walked through the door.

"I live here," Derek said mildly. "What are you doing here?"

Addison didn't answer. Just shrugged sadly.

"How much have you had to drink, Addison?"

"I don't know. Why do you care?"

"I—"

"Why aren't you spending Christmas with someone you love?" Addison challenged.

"I—"

"Did she not want to spend Christmas with you, Derek? Is that it?"

"I'm not having this conversation with you."

"Is that supposed to shock me?" Addison asked, draining what was left of her scotch. "You never want to have any conversation with me, ever."

"Goodnight, Addison," Derek snapped, purposefully ignoring her accusation.

"Sweet dreams, Honey," Addison shot back sarcastically.

"Yeah, whatever. Don't drink too m—You know what? Do whatever the hell you want."

She did just that. Drank in silence—alone on Christmas Eve—occasionally brushing stray tears from her eyes.

She didn't know how long she'd been drinking, when she heard footsteps. Derek was padding toward her, dressed in pajamas; and she could tell just by looking at him that he was having trouble sleeping.

He rummaged through the cabinet for a tumbler, and she pushed the bottle of scotch in his direction.

He poured himself a sizeable glass. She didn't question it. She didn't have to. She knew what he was doing—he was trying to keep up with her.

They didn't say anything. Just passed the scotch back and forth, drinking until it didn't hurt anymore.

After what could have been minutes or hours of drinking, Derek got up from the table and stumbled toward the cabinet and began poking around in there.

"Cookie?"

Her eyes tracked him lazily. "What?" she asked in confusion.

"Cookie?" he repeated.

"I don't think that pet name works for us, Derek. Besides, you won't even let me call you honey."

"No," Derek said, holding up a box of Oreos. "Would you like a cookie?"

Addison raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you eat cookies?"

"I, um …"

"Oh," Addison trailed off, nodding in understanding. Derek hadn't bought the cookies for himself. He'd bought them for his ex-girlfriend, with whom he'd apparently fallen in love.

"Addison, don't make a thing of this. Just … do you want a cookie or not?"

"I don't want a cookie." She looked at him dryly. "It'll dilute the alcohol."

Derek shrugged and tore into the Oreos.

"Derek?"

"Yes?"

"The next time you order cookies from your ex-girlfriend, would you mind getting me a box of Thin Mints?"

"That's not funny," Derek muttered, glaring at Addison icily.

"Drink more; it will be."

"This conversation is over," Derek snapped, eyes flashing.

Addison shrugged mildly. Apparently, this was what constituted a conversation with Derek these days.

She went back to drinking silently. He went back to drinking silently. He attempted to eat his cookie, but quickly realized he didn't really like it. Apparently, all these years of eating his mom's homemade cookies and Addison's fancy, store-bought ones had made him a bit of a cookie snob.

"Thin Mints are the worst Girl Scout cookie," he muttered after a moment.

"They're better than those bland Trefoils you like."

"Trefoils are good," Derek insisted.

"Hey, remember those sugar cookies your mom makes every Christmas?" Addison asked; a look of nostalgia in her eyes.

And just like that, his mood changed. He stared at her indifferently, looking past her once again.

"Fine, I get it," Addison sighed. "You don't want to remember anything that has to do with me or your life before you moved out here."

"Let's just drink, Addison," Derek said, refilling their tumblers.

Addison shrugged and took a long sip of her scotch.

Why talk when you can avoid? And when you can drink?

So, they did just that—avoided and drank.

She didn't remember going to bed. Technically, she never made it to the bed. She woke up on Christmas morning sprawled awkwardly on the couch. Derek was fast asleep a few feet away on the kitchen table.

Once she got hear bearings, she fully appreciated just how hung over she was. The first thing that hit her was her killer headache. The second was her sandpaper-dry throat. She definitely drank too much last night.

The third thing that hit her was that she was going to be sick … and she wasn't going to make it to the bathroom in time.

So, she vomited violently right in the middle of the trailer.

"What's going on?" Derek mumbled groggily, ripped from his sleep by the sound of Addison vomiting and heaving. "Addison!" he exclaimed, when he registered what was happening. "What the—"

But he couldn't finish his sentence. His hangover hit and he, too, started vomiting uncontrollably.

"This is gross," Addison whimpered, running her hand against her sweaty forehead.

It went on like that for over an hour.

Sometimes they took turns. She'd vomit, then he'd vomit. And then there were times where they vomited in unison. It was poetic … almost.

Then there were times when they thought they were through, and just curled up in the fetal position on whatever clean surface they could find.

Which led to them sitting on the porch, right outside the trailer.

It had been three hours since his last bout. Two since hers.

"Hear me out," she said. "I think we should blow up the trailer. Kaboom!"

"I love the trailer," he muttered.

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure we destroyed it. There's no way we're going to be able to clean up the mess we made in there this morning. Let's just blow it up."

"I'm not blowing up the trailer."

"Yeah," Addison sighed. "I knew that was a long shot." She turned to her husband. "I guess I deserved this morning. I made a mess of this year. It seems only fair for this Christmas to be messy and painful."

Derek swallowed thickly. He was too weak to think rationally … to admit that maybe he deserved this morning as well. He was also too weak to argue with her … to throw her affair in her face.

"This has to be the least Christmassy Christmas," he said after a minute.

Addison nodded mutely. "Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Addison."

He didn't say it warmly. But he didn't say it coolly either. If anything, there was a hint of understanding—solidarity—in his voice. And given the events of the morning, it made sense.

It gave her hope.

She knew from many years of drinking that sometimes you had to hit rock bottom—and vomit—to start feeling better. This morning was proof of that.

Maybe her marriage would be like that too. Maybe she and Derek had hit rock bottom … and could finally start rebuilding their relationship.

And what better time to do that than Christmas.

She, of course, later learned that they hadn't hit rock bottom … that bigger, more painful messes were on the horizon.

But that Christmas—as she and Derek strategized how to best disinfect the trailer—she was hopeful. Of course, it would soon become clear that cleaning up the trailer—as disgusting as it was—was infinitely easier of than cleaning up their marriage.


	4. Christmases 9-11

A/N: Thanks so much for the kind feedback on the last installment! Here's the next and final chapter. I hope you enjoy it and hope you enjoyed the story. I know I enjoyed writing it! Thanks again to everyone for reading and reviewing; it means a lot!

Hope everyone has a happy holiday!

* * *

 _9\. When He Chased After Her_

She woke up to the sound of the doorbell ringing.

Confused and still tired, she groggily twisted in bed to check the time—5:56 a.m. Who in the world would be stopping by this early on Christmas morning?

She considered ignoring whoever it was, but quickly thought better of it. Maybe it was important.

So, she padded down the stairs of her California beach house, not bothering to check her appearance.

She quickly wished she had, because when she looked through the peephole to see who was at the door, she saw her ex-husband standing outside.

"I'll just pretend I'm still asleep," Addison muttered to herself as she walked away from the door. "He doesn't have to know I saw him."

"Addison, I can hear you moving around in there," Derek called out. "I can hear you talking to yourself too."

She stood there, frozen in place, unsure what to do next.

"You might as well answer the door, Addison. I'm not leaving … even if that means I'm out here all day. So, come on. No anesthesia."

She sighed. _No anesthesia. Here we go._

She opened the door and stared at her ex-husband blankly. He was the one who stopped fighting for their marriage. And now he was the one who had flown out to LA. He should be the one to do the talking.

"You look really nice," Derek said sincerely as his eyes raked over her body appreciatively.

"Derek, I just woke up. I'm a mess."

He shook his head in disagreement. "You look nice."

She took in his appearance. His hair was disheveled. His eyes were sunken in. He looked tired … sad.

"Derek, are you okay?"

"Honestly? No." He sighed. "I'm a mess, Addison."

She stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue.

"I'm not happy," Derek admitted. "I just … I miss you. It's our season, and I miss you."

"And just like that, everything's forgiven," Addison said sarcastically, giving Derek a saccharine sweet smile. "Roll credits."

"Addison, I—"

"Look, Derek, you made a life in Seattle that very clearly didn't include me. I'm trying to do the same. So, please, just let me.

"But …" Derek trailed off prepared to fight her. But he quickly thought better of it. "It doesn't snow here," he mused, changing the subject and taking in the beautiful California landscape.

"Nope," Addison shrugged. "It stays pretty green." She shook her head sadly. "When did my life become Joni Mitchell's song, 'River'?"

"What?" Derek asked in confusion.

"'River.' It's a sad Christmas song," Addison explained. "About a woman, who's unhappy at Christmas time, and wishes she had a river so she could skate away."

"I guess that song sums up my life right now too," Derek reflected.

Addison shook her head sadly. Never in her life would she have imagined that she and Derek—who loved Christmas more than anything—would be able to relate to possibly the most depressing Christmas song of all time.

"What are you doing here, Derek?" she asked, redirecting the conversation.

"It's Christmas," Derek said quietly. "Christmas makes you want to be with—"

"Don't," Addison cut in. "Don't say that. Not to me."

"Addison, I'm sorry. About prom. About Seattle. About everything."

"You're sorry?" Addison asked icily. "What about when I was sorry? I was Satan. I was an adulterous bitch." She glared at him. "And now that you're apologizing, I'm just supposed to forgive you? That's a bit of a double standard, don't you think?"

"It's a double standard," Derek admitted with a sigh. "I get that. But I'm a mess. And it looks like you might be a mess too. And it's Christmas, Addison. It's our seas-"

"Stop."

"What?"

"Derek, stop. Your life may be a mess, and my life may be a mess. But you coming here and us giving things another shot … or whatever it is you want out of this … it's only going to make things more messy."

"You don't know that."

"I do know that." Addison insisted. "Look, Derek, I came to LA to start over. I thought moving somewhere new would make things easier. And, most days, it has … a little. But Christmas … that's a different story. Christmas is unbearable. Because, for me, Christmas is so intimately tied to you … and that doesn't go away just because I moved to LA."

"Ad—"

And having you here on Christmas morning … having you here is making things harder." She looked at him pleadingly. "Please go."

"Addison, let's talk. At least let me in your house. We can talk about this. Let's—"

"What was it you said to me that one time? You're a sink with an open drain. So am I."

"No. Addison, you're not. You're better than that. You're so much better than that."

"I think you should go, Derek."

"But—"

"Please go."

He swallowed thickly. He didn't want to leave. But Addison certainly didn't want him to stay.

So he left.

He knew one thing for certain, though—the mess he was on his flight out to California was nothing compared to the mess he was on his flight home.

* * *

 _10\. When She Chased After Him_

It was the same Christmas that he chased after her. Hours apart, actually.

He'd come to her looking for another try. And she had sent him away.

It was the right thing to do. She knew that.

But it didn't feel right.

Maybe it was because he looked as horrible as she felt. Maybe it was because his life was just as messy as hers. Maybe it was because it was Christmas, and Christmas was their season. At least, it used to be.

Whatever the reason, she found herself driving to the airport and booking a last minute flight to Seattle.

It was weak and pathetic. She knew that.

It was wrong. She knew that too.

But right and wrong were blurry for her … especially when it came to Derek.

And with that in mind, she boarded her flight to Seattle.

She arrived at Derek's trailer a few hours later.

"Addison," Derek said in surprise, when he opened the door to his trailer to find her standing outside. "What are you doing here?"

"It's Christmas," she said simply.

"It is," Derek agreed softly. "It's just … I can't believe you came." He smiled at her, his eyes soft. "What made you change your mind?"

"I, um … I don't know," Addison admitted after a moment. "I think a part of me is still trying to figure that out."

He gave her an understanding smile. "I want to take you somewhere."

"What?"

"I want to take you somewhere," he repeated. "Come on," he said, escorting her to his car.

Addison looked at her ex-husband warily, but conceded. "No cheery Christmas carols," she warned as they started to drive away.

"Not this year," Derek agreed seriously.

They drove in silence for twenty minutes before Derek stopped the car.

"Where are we?" Addison asked in confusion. "Elliott Bay?"

"Technically, yes," Derek nodded. "But it's supposed to be a river."

"What?"

"I listened to Joni Mitchell's song," he explained, chuckling at his ex-wife's bewildered expression.

"Oh."

"I wish I had a river I could skate away on," Derek said, growing serious as he quoted the song. He ran a hand through his hair. "It's a depressing song."

"It is," Addison agreed. "But not everyone is happy on Christmas," she pointed out. "You and I are proof of that."

"Yeah, but …" Derek trailed off, not wanting him and Addison to be part of that group of people who aren't happy on Christmas. "I don't think we can skate on Elliott Bay," he said, purposefully changing the subject. "I'm not sure it's frozen over, and I don't want to find out the hard way if it isn't. That's a risk we don't need to take. Plus, you're not dressed for the outdoors." He shrugged. "I guess we'll have to do this here, in the car."

"Derek what are you talking about?"

He swallowed thickly. "We're both obviously unhappy, Addison. I'm a mess without you … and I'm pretty sure you're a mess without me too. So, the way I see it we have three options."

"Der—"

"Option one," he continued, ignoring her objections. "We skate away together. Option two: _you_ skate away. But you take me with you," he added with a smile.

"What's the third option?" she asked, her voice thick with emotion.

"I don't know what the third option is," Derek murmured, brushing his lips against hers. "I just know I still love you."

In the end they ended up going with the third option—talking. And they talked about everything and anything. About how he was absent, and why she cheated. About Mark and Meredith. About indifference, infidelity, abortion, and infertility.

But, mostly, they talked about them … Addison-and-Derek.

It was a mess of emotions—tears, anger, and endless apologies. Regrets about the past, and promises to do better in the future.

But, somehow, after hours of talking and crying and screaming in his car, parked in front of Elliott Bay (their very own river), the mess cleared.

Then they skated away together …

* * *

 _11\. This Christmas_

There are no two ways about it, their New York City brownstone is a mess. Wrapping paper litters the living room floor, and toys and clothes are scattered everywhere.

"Who would have guessed two little people could make such a big mess?" Derek muses, wrapping an arm around his wife's waist as they watch their son and daughter zip across the living room in the motorized child-sized Mercedes and Ferrari their Uncle Archer just had to buy them.

"No riding those in the house," Addison warns their children. "Those are outside toys." She turns to her husband. "You didn't realize two little people could make such a big mess?" she parrots, looking at him pointedly. "Where have you been the last four years?"

Derek chuckles. Addison's right; they've seen their fair share of messes over the past few years.

They capped off the Christmas where they took turns chasing after each other by flying to New York together, late Christmas night.

They never looked back.

By New Years, they were acting couple-y. By Valentine's Day, they were acting like husband and wife. And they made it official (for the second and final time), Memorial Day weekend.

That part, surprisingly, was relatively mess free.

Sawyer Christopher Shepherd was born a year and a half later. And no one could deny that he was a true testament to his parents' blood, sweat, tears, and patience. But, above all, Sawyer was a testament to his parents' love.

Addison and Derek moved heaven and earth conceiving him … fertility drugs, rounds of IVF, blood tests, injections, the works. In fact, Archer called Sawyer the most planned for baby to ever be born.

They exact opposite was the case for Addison and Derek's daughter. To say Alice Antonia Shepherd was a surprise would be the understatement of the century. Conceived in the master bedroom of the brownstone, just five months after the birth of her brother—without any tests or fancy procedures—Alice was proof that sometimes the best things happen when you least expect it.

And Alice was certainly unexpected.

Never in a million years, did Addison expect to be pregnant again (let alone seven-months pregnant) at her son's first birthday party—Sawyer's Winter One-derland—but that was exactly the way things worked out. And when Alice was born a month early, in February instead of March, Addison and Derek knew their daughter would forever keep them on their toes.

Of course they put up with their family and friends' jokes and teasing a year later at Alice's first birthday party—Alice in One-derland—about when they should expect baby number three.

"That's not happening," Derek insisted, cuddling Alice close.

"Yeah," Addison agreed, ruffling Sawyer's dark hair. "We already have our hands full."

That was certainly true. With two kids just thirteen months apart, their life was crazy and messy and chaotic. But Addison and Derek both agreed they wouldn't want it any other way.

"I guess we've seen a lot of messes over the past few years," Derek concedes ripping Addison from her thoughts.

Addison nods in agreement. From dirty diapers (which always seemed to happen at the same time), to projectile vomiting (which also seemed to happen at the same time), she and Derek weren't strangers to messes.

"Still, this mess feels different," Derek continues.

Addison laughs as she watches Sawyer and Alice play with the packing peanuts from the gifts Bizzy and the Captain had sent.

"Snow!" Sawyer exclaims, throwing a handful of white Styrofoam packing peanuts into the air.

"Snow inside!" Alice giggles, clapping her little hands excitedly.

And as she watches her children, Addison realizes Derek is right. This mess is different. Just months away from turning four and three, it's the first Christmas where both Sawyer and Alice understand what's going on.

And while this should make things easier, somehow it's translated into a bigger Christmas morning mess.

"Mommy!" Alice exclaims, running over and flinging herself into Addison's arms. "Look."

"Addison allows her almost three-year-old to lead her over to the tree so she can show off the new dollhouse she got for Christmas."

"Look," Alice repeats proudly.

"Wow," Addison smiles, "Did Santa get you that?"

"Uh-huh," Alice grins as Addison runs a hand through her daughter's dark red hair.

She glances over at Derek and Sawyer, who are busy racing remote control cars across the living room floor.

"Do you know who's really good at racing cars?" she hears her husband ask their son.

"No. Who?" Sawyer asks eagerly.

"Mommy."

"Really?" Sawyer asks disbelievingly.

"Really," Derek confirms. "She used to race them all the time with Uncle Archer when she was little."

"Here, Mommy," Sawyer says, handing Addison his remote. "You can race Daddy."

"She can try," Derek teases good-naturedly, nudging his wife with his elbow.

"Derek," Addison laughs. "I haven't raced cars in—"

"Years," Derek fills in. "Yeah, I know. But it's like riding a bike. You don't forget how to do it."

"I don't know," Addison disagrees.

"I heard you used to be good," Derek smirks.

Addison arches an eyebrow. "Did Archer tell you that?"

"Of course not. I guess I just assumed you'd be good," Derek amends. "Since you're good at most things. Not to mention, you're ridiculously competitive."

"I guess that's true," Addison concedes.

"Of course it's true," Derek smiles, meeting her eyes. "I've known you forever. There are very few things we don't know about each other."

"Enough talking," Sawyer cuts in. "Time to race cars!"

"Yeah," Alice agrees. "Time to race cars."

"You heard the munchkins," Derek chuckles, winking at his wife. "You ready, Honey?"

"Ready," Addison laughs. She turns to their son. "Alright, Sawyer; count us down."

"Okay," Sawyer nods, growing serious. "Ready … set … go!"

"Derek!' Addison shrieks, as her husband takes an early lead.

"Catch him, Mommy!" Alice cheers, pumping her tiny fist in the air.

"Come on, Addie," Derek taunts. "You can do better than that that."

Addison laughs. She's not going to beat Derek, and she knows it. So, she resorts to a tried and true tactic—something she and Archer used to do when they were kids to prevent the other one from winning at whatever game or competition they were involved in.

She drops her remote and wraps her arms around her husband—catching him off guard—and bringing him the ground.

"Hey, not fair," he laughs, pulling her on top of him and tickling her ribs; both of them giggling uncontrollably.

They struggle for a moment—laughing, as they both fight for dominance—until she presses a quick kiss to him lips. "Merry Christmas, Honey," she whispers, growing serious. "I love you."

"Merry Christmas," he smiles, kissing his wife deeply. "I love you too. So much."

Sawyer and Alice exchange a glance and nod at each other, sharing an unspoken understanding. And seconds later, they run toward their parents and jump on top of them, squealing gleefully as Addison and Derek tickle them and press kisses to their little cheeks. And now all four Shepherds are in a heap on the floor, laughing hysterically.

The phone is ringing in the background (likely Carolyn calling to confirm plans for later in the day), but Addison and Derek have no plans to answer it.

They're too busy celebrating Christmas.

The two of them and their children are sprawled out messily on the living room floor … him on his back, her on top of him … and Sawyer and Alice trying to insert themselves into the fun in any way and every way they can.

Their living room floor is also a mess … littered with opened gifts, wrapping paper, and packing peanuts.

But Addison and Derek are in no rush to clean the mess up. Because there's no mess quite like the mess in the living room on Christmas day.

And they have every intention to enjoy it.

 _xxx_

* * *

Happy Holidays!


End file.
